


i don't need more than this.

by kurotsuno



Category: Original Work, amai jinsei
Genre: Death, Original Character Death(s), idk it just sucks, saint is still around lmao, this takes place after the bakery burns down, wen is presumed dead?? so are lots of other people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 04:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12148737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurotsuno/pseuds/kurotsuno
Summary: mimi's world has changed since then.





	i don't need more than this.

Her slender fingers grazed soft leather, the same fond texture that she pondered upon. That day, downpour had soaked her, and the covering of the seats, as well. How she missed him. She missed his face, the comforting embrace of him, his voice, his comments, his _everything_. 'What if's' could endlessly perpetrate her, but even she was begrudgingly informed that the past was, well, in the past. There was no going back. Her past was just another page in the dusty novels she carefully arranged every dawn and dusk. A scorched page. Charred to a disgusting black.

Pulling herself out of her qualms, Mimi gently huffed, hoisting a perhaps overamount of books in her arms, trembling as she fruitlessly struggled to move them to the wooden counter. Instead of a uninterrupted journey, of course, Mimi became tangled in her own soles, and collided with the carpeting, her cargo scattering abound the surface. Frantically, she began inspecting each and every novel, for damages in the clamor, not observing the footsteps trailing up to her. "Here, may I help?" That sickening croak of a 'voice' swapped her from her current reality, and into that she lingered on. Maybe it was the malice in his eyes, oh those burning green eyes, almost a hue akin to her own of hazel. Perhaps it was the envisioning, the crackling flames, the feverish screams, the immediate sprinting, the aroma of smoke polluting her lungs. It could have been the awakening, the grievances, all that he had taken from her. Her family, her friends, her bakery, _him_. This man had snatched all of that right out from under her.

No murmur could escape Mimi, a overcast of terror upon her as Saint innocently fluttered his own eyelids, extending out his left hand to assist her. Saint was all there was left. The only vision to Mimi's world was Saint, the man who inflicted havoc onto her life, and had caused the deaths of her career and close persons. He was the devil's advocate. He was the evil in it all. And, yet, he was all that remained from the arson. Mimi accepted his hand, her's shaking in his. It was almost like a trap, as if she was now ensnared in his jaw. Saint yanked his hand up, pressing Mimi's head over his shoulder as the scent of cigarettes encased her, huffing into the crook of her neck, whispering,

**"You know, it was your fault."**


End file.
